Mars Aeternum
by Hawki
Summary: Infinite Warfare Oneshot: They were Martians, not Earthen. They had their destiny before them, if only they had the will to take it. And as strong as the chains that bound SetDef was, Salen knew that there were always some weak links.


**Mars Aeternum**

"Stand hard, stand firm, stand tall." Captain Salen Kotch forced a smile as he looked at Major Beckett. "Doesn't quite have the same ring as 'Mars aeternum', but I think it works."

"What do you want, Salen?"

The smile faded. "Thought I established that over the vid-phone."

"No. You didn't. You said you wanted to see me, and used all manner of flattery that had as sincerity in it as this planet has surface water." The major leant forward in her desk. "I always knew you were an arrogant little shit, but I figured that I might as well indulge you."

"So kind." He took a seat in front of Beckett and looked beyond her, to the plasteel window behind her. Dust swirled around, what little of it was visible. Martian nights regularly reached -73 degrees Celsius, and were a damn sight warmer than Beckett's scowl towards him.

"Well?" she snapped.

He smirked. "You really have nothing better to do than indulge arrogant shits like me?"

She grunted. "You know nothing Salen."

"Actually, I know quite a bit, no matter what people like Rear-Admiral Snow say." He leant back in the chair. "I know, for instance, that the phrase I used goes back decades, predating even the Settlement Defence Front, to when colonists first arrived on this planet. Stand hard, for this is a harsh world. Stand firm, because history will inevitably follow suit. Stand tall, for we are Martians, and proud." He shrugged. "Also we're taller than Earthen. You can thank the lower gravity for that."

"You here to give me a history lesson Salen?"

"No, I'm here to extend the olive branch."

"Greek bearing a gift, are you?"

"That's the horse, Major." His right fist, hidden from Beckett's sight, opened and closed – one day, centuries from now, Mars would have its own mythology. They wouldn't have to rely on the legends of a foreign people for platitudes – oppressors who wanted Mars for its resources, but not its people. They'd already captured three such Trojan horses this year – he'd personally interrogated one of them, and after that, watched the bastard suffocate on the Martian surface. He'd have found it gratifying if not for the knowledge that Mars was still Troy, and was still under siege.

"Fine," Beckett said. "So you're not here for a history lesson, even though all you've done is give me one. So what is it? What are you after?"

"The future." He got to his feet. "Stand tall, stand hard, stand firm. These are the values Mars was founded on, and these are the values we've forgotten."

Beckett scoffed. "I've been in SetDef longer than you Salen. I can assure you we've forgotten nothing."

"SetDef," Salen scoffed. He continued to pace around, though glanced at her. "Settlement Defence Front. That's a betrayal of those values right there – name a force whose only mandate is for defence."

"What other purpose is there for an army?"

"To eliminate the enemy, for one thing. Swipe off the head of the beast before we get any more mangled." Beckett remained silent, so he continued. "There's plenty of precedents in history for this major. Pre-emptive strikes to cripple an enemy before war comes. Because war is coming, major, and you know it. You've said as such."

"A war we'll win, once Earth attacks."

"And then what? We win, we drive them back, and then what? Wait for the next attack? The one after that?" He put his hands on the desk and leant over. "You know I'm right major. You know the history of Earth as well as I do. The only reason it's kept going is because of extra-Terran resource extraction, and Mars is the mother lode."

"All true," Beckett said. "And?"

"And we put a stop to it."

"By what? Attacking Earth?" Beckett leant back in her chair and chuckled. Salen however, remained silent, and slowly, she fell silent as well. "Holy shit," she whispered. "You're actually serious."

"Strike Earth before they strike us. Simple concept really."

"You…you're actually serious." She leant forward on her desk. "Jesus Christ, you're fucking serious."

"You think I care what a dead man on a world I've never walked on thinks?"

"No, but fuck's sake Salen, you…" She leant back in her chair and stared. "Are you that insane? You've been captain of the _Viking _for a year, and you've got delusions of grandeur in the process?"

"The line between delusion and inspiration is-"

"Space madness," Beckett said. She unfolded a laptop on the desk and began typing. "Get out captain."

"Major…"

"I said get out. If you want to discuss attacking Earth, you can bloody well forget it and-"

Salen slammed the laptop's top shut. Beckett glared at him.

"Mars," Salen said.

"What?"

"Mars," he repeated. "Roman god of war. Patron god of one of the largest empires Earth ever saw, made possible by the-"

"I told you to get out, Salen."

"We're the Romans," he continued. "We're the children of Mars. We've forgotten our birthright, content to sit in the dust while barbarians gather at the door."

"And you propose an attack first?" Beckett leant back in her seat, and smiled. "You know, that's so insane, I could actually entertain it."

"How's it insane?"

And the smile faded. "You know how many people there are on Earth, Salen?"

"Eight, nine billion?"

"Ten. And how many are on Mars?"

"Six-hundred million."

"Six-hundred million," Beckett repeated. "Earth could just scoop up every citizen if it wanted to and throw it at us, and we'd be powerless to stop it." She glanced outside her window. "Can't deny it would be nice to have rain of a sort here, but…" She looked back at the captain. "When it rains, it pours."

"So bring the rain on them."

"Excuse me?"

"Bring the rain on them," Salen said.

"English, Captain Kotch."

"Bring the rain," he said. "Space superiority. That's modern warfare, and that's all we need. Not black ops, not some advanced warfare, just the truth of war in the Sol system. Achieve space superiority, and a planet is as good as taken. Kinetic bombardment, pinpoint strikes…we don't need ten billion soldiers major. We just need to achieve space superiority over Earth."

Beckett frowned. "Even if we did that, and that's a big if, how would you occupy a planet with more population on a single continent than all of Mars?"

"Easy. Just kill them."

The colour left Beckett's face very quickly. Salen noticed, or said, "or, just enough to make an occupation manageable."

"You're talking genocide, Salen," she whispered.

"And? What of it? Death's no disgrace. Whatever Earthen have backbones would die fighting anyway, so the remaining grubs can just hurry up and die and-"

"No," Beckett said. "Absolutely not."

"Major, I-"

"Salen Kotch, I'm going to make this very clear," Beckett said. "You're smart. You're ruthless. You're everything SetDef wants, which is why I'm going to forget any of this just happened. Because ten seconds from now, you're going to comment on the weather, leave this room, and get back to the _Viking_. Because if word of this reached this room, you'd meet the same fate as the UNSA spies you're so fond of forcing to die horribly."

"Killing one is fine, killing millions makes me a murderer?" he murmured.

"Billions," Beckett said. "And yes."

Salen frowned. "And that's your final word? Because I should warn you major, that if you fail to see the light, things could get very uncomfortable."

Beckett stared at him, aghast. "Are you threatening me, Salen?"

"Captain Kotch," he corrected. "And no. I'm not threatening you. Although…" He reached into his pocket and took out a rebreather. "I should get this one."

"Salen, what the hell are you doing?"

"Putting on a rebreather."

"God's sake, I know what you're doing. _Why _are you doing it?"

"Because of the life support failure." He tightened the mask over his nose and mouth.

"Salen, what failure?"

"The one that happened ten seconds ago. Didn't you notice?"

Beckett got to her feet. "Salen, get out," she said.

"Can't. Your office went on lockdown. We're stuck in here until the air cycle is restored."

"God's sake Kotch, you…" Beckett got to her feet, and immediately, the effects of reduced oxygen became clear. Her pupils were dilating. Her breath was shallower. She was struggling for words, and likewise, struggling to move. "I…I think we…"

"Hurry up and die Beckett."

The major slumped back against her chair. Glad as he was to see the bitch get what was coming to her, Salen didn't smile. He just stood there, over her – the Grim Reaper come to Mars to claim another victim.

"You think…you…away with this?"

"Oh Beckett, you don't get it, do you? I already have friends, and they're already in SDF Command. They were just wondering if you were onboard with the new way we're going to do things."

Beckett clearly heard the words, he reflected – her eyes widened far enough. "You'll…you'll ruin Mars…"

"I'm saving Mars," he said. "This is the red planet, and we are it's children. We Martianborn are the future of mankind, but that new beginning can only be forged in blood and fire. And if that means going to war, so be it."

"You'll…go…to Hell…"

"Hell?" he scoffed. "Look outside your window major, if you can still manage it. Hell is out there. Hell is Mars. Hell is the world created for us by an illegitimate regime over two-hundred miles away. And while better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven, much better to tear Heaven down, and remove the shackles that false angels hold."

Beckett didn't say anything. She wasn't even breathing.

"Any last words major? More craven insight?" No answer came. "Didn't think so."

He only had to wait a few minutes before oxygen was restored, and he could take the rebreather off. He inhaled the cold, crisp air, wondering for a moment what it would be like to breathe air of the real variety. To walk under a clear blue sky. To do so without a vac suit, to not worry about suffocation, or low temperatures, or radiation, or any of the other ways Mars wanted to kill its people. He wondered, and reflected that soon, far sooner than simpletons like Beckett could imagine, that day would come. He headed for the door, sparing the major one last glance, before walking ahead into the future.

"Mars aeternum," he whispered.


End file.
